


Moving On

by mythopathic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Sequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-19 22:18:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythopathic/pseuds/mythopathic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you are looking for closure, you are not going to find it here.<br/>Sequel to Falling deep</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gravity

  
"I swear to god I will throw that lamp out of the fucking window. Turn it the fuck off, please. Thank you."

  
Charlie had had enough of Lydia. Charlie who barely noticed when Lydia would strew her clothes all over their dorm room: on chairs, window shutters, laptops, coffeemaker, photo frames, doorknobs and both beds. Who had been bringing Lydia real wine gummy bears from Harvey the food technology guy for the past two weeks. Who had a good day if you handed her a cup of coffee in the morning, but only if she had had her seven and a half hours of sleep on the previous night. The perfectly oiled studying machine that was Charlie Never-call-me-Charlaine Jones really only required the minimum amount of consideration from her sleepless roommate.

  
Lydia Martin had been tossing and turning for the last two hours. She laid herself to bed pulling the blue and white striped cover over her head and waited for one night's oblivion. Instead of sleep taking over she felt her legs and arms go peculiarly numb. Switching sides on the bed and fluffing the pillows didn't help. She got up twice to drink a glass of water and three to pee. She even tried reading for half an hour -Tolkien always put her to sleep- put on an extra blanket, took off the blanket and then her pajama pants. All failed.

  
Charlie's protest was the last straw. Lydia kicked off the covers and dressed. She put the appropriate college student after midnight attire which consisted of pajama pants, her blue go beavers sweatshirt, slippers and baseball cap to disguise her hair. She even put on her YSL frames which were finally going to meet the world outside her room.

  
"Where are you going?" Charlie asked from under the covers trying very hard not to wake herself up entirely.

  
Lydia picked up her keys, blackberry and purse which held her grade A fake I.D. inside. "Seven eleven or open liquor store, whichever is nearest," she replied. She waved goodbye but then she remembered not to jiggle her keys.

  
"Don't wait up." Haha.

  
If you're a first year in college you cannot get a dorm house with its own parking space right across the street. Unless you're Lydia Martin. Call it early registration, call it the five things to ask the college admissions office for; the one practically begging you to attend, rotation be damned. Lydia's House of choice was a gorgeous renovated early twentieth century building with red brick alcoves and arched cloisters , but most importantly shaded parking space to protect her apple green VW Beetle from the Pasadena sun.

  
Fifteen minutes was all it took her to re-enter campus with a bottle of alcoholic coconut delight and a bag of sour cream and onion flavored chips on the side seat. Still when she took the left turn to the dorm she found a black Porsche SUV was sitting in her space cool and innocent as you please. The purple neon digits on her dashboard said it was one fifty-four in the morning. The angry stream of obscenities that one would personally voice Lydia thought, embellished and put in seven lines of iambic heptameter before she reluctantly drove off to find another space.

It was no surprise that the only parking lot with available spots was the one adjacent to the track stadium all but walled on three sides by dark and empty athletics facilities and a wooded park on the other. She squeezed in an available spot on the edge of the park between a Hyundai and a silver Cayman, perfectly aware that she was blocking the Porsche's driver's way.

  
The parking lot lamps were all working, shedding a reluctant sallow light over the cars. The thick leafy canopy blocking the light kept the park grounds in darkness. The park absorbed noise pollution, the treehuggers said. It encouraged predators, sane people said. Lydia got out of the car and pushed her key button to lock. There was the expected mechanical sound of the doors locking accompanied by a flash of the headlights. They briefly illuminated the tree trunks ahead of the car and a wide-shouldered man's silhouette standing just fifteen yards away.

  
  
Lydia stared blankly at the now completely dark spot where he'd appeared. A screech owl's call unfroze her. She unlocked the car and got back inside as fast as she could, heart in her throat and locked again. She switched the headlights on flooding the copse with light. There was no one there.

  
Lydia remembered she had pepper spray in the glove compartment (and a mountain ash letter opener) but the true choice lay in her willingness to leave her car. At that moment she didn't care about double parking as long as she could run into the building in twenty seconds; she started the engine, put in reverse and backed out. First gear and the car's tires squealed something out of Psycho's theme as she drove out the parking lot. Why could she not have just locked herself in the bathroom and bawl her eyes out like every other time? Or track down the Benz owners and fuck both?

  
She did not see the man stepping in the beetle's way. He hit the hood with a thud and swirled on the windbreaker to thud on the roof again. She braked grinding the car to a stop tires screaming and she as well.

 

She kept on screaming while the fright turned to disbelief then anger and then she just screamed for the hell of it. She had caught a clear glimpse of the man, the same square-shouldered man that had scared her into leaving, his black t-shirt, black hair and unshaven angular jaw: Derek Hale.

  
  
He knocked on the window. He didn't seem to have lost any limbs, in fact he looked unshaken from the collision apart from the streak of dust on one shoulder. He brushed it off, cracked his neck as if to get rid of a kink. He smiled.

  
"Are you freaking kidding me!?" she yelled at him behind the closed window.

  
She could see his mouth moving forming something like, "Anaheim."

  
That did not make any sense. "What?"

  
"I teeth to talk new you."

  
"What?!"

  
Derek gestured with his hand the international sign for, "Roll down your window."

  
"No," she shook her head. He had vanished from Beacon Hills on that night before Halloween having wrecked havoc on everyone's lives and no one had seen him since, not even his pack. Isaac had looked for him for months on end travelling to god knows where missing school pushing away anyone who cared especially Erica and Boyd who had got left behind again and again with only the insecurity and aggression that entailed to keep them. Whatever Derek was doing in Pasadena she wanted him to do it away from her.

  
He had brought war in Beacon Hills and she had had to—finish school and go to college.

  
Derek looked pissed. He reached in his back pocket taking out his phone. "I'll call you," he said gesturing.

  
He pressed on the screen, pressed some side buttons, shook it growing madder by the second and then as if remembering she was right there paused and showed her. The screen of his phone was completely blank with a crack running through it. He must have broken it when he crashed into her car.

  
Why should she open the window? Lydia sat within the cardboard illusion of her little car's safety feeling the grief of the last two weeks bearing her down feeling the violence of the last two years to have worn her skin thin and scaly, ugly and itching to be shed like yesterday's bad news, ready to snap like a hair carrying a sword over the head of a man in a throne.

  
Derek's voice came faint through the glass. He spoke again his mouth forming the same shapes, and again. On the fourth time it came to her. "I'm sorry," he said over and over eyes round and stark, hands useless by his side.

  
"Well, he's not planning to kill me," was a lame excuse but Lydia Martin went ahead and opened the car door.

-  
  
  


 


	2. Momentum

"I'm not going to kill you," Derek said.

"I feel so relieved."

He frowned at her, she thought assessing her, his mind taking her out of the 'Attractive and dumb' box into the 'Huh, I don't know what to make of you' one– which was regretful. It was the glasses and oversized jersey she decided. They made her look smart and sensible. If she hadn't been so distracted she would never have gone out her dorm without some more consideration in the way she looked even in the middle of the night. Speaking of which.

"Were you following me?"

"Yeah," he replied, as if it was the obvious choice. "Recon."

"You seriously need a hobby. And learn to use your phone." Isaac would have appreciated Derek using his phone and some effort to keeping in touch. Erica and Boyd would too.

"I'll pick up knitting later. We need to talk."

She smiled thinly, resolved to suppress any jabs that for all she knew hit a stone wall. "Excellent. I have a forty five minute opening at one tomorrow. How would the Starbucks west of the campus work for you?"

He shook his head. "No-"

"Yeah the bistro is better. I'll have lunch and you will be in luck because I won't have a hangover by then."

"Don't play games with me. It has to be done now."

Lydia folded her arms across her chest and leaned on the dent Derek's body left on the hood of her precious beetle. "What has to be done?"

 

Unconsciously he mimicked her posture and a heartbeat later he released his hands once he realized what he was doing. Everyone knew alphas did not display defensive body language.

"I need you to perform a spell for me. The whole deal shouldn't take more than two days, maybe three if we come into trouble."

She laughed. The definition of trouble had changed for Lydia once she had realized she had been living in a pulp paranormal series. And furthermore this was Derek Hale who instead of offering amends wanted to get something out of her. Well if he had thought she could be bribed with anything less than a Birkin bag.

"Tell me what I want to hear, Derek. Tell me you have something I want because you know I wouldn't lift a finger to help you unless you make me a ridiculously outrageously attractive offer. Please tell me you got smarter with age and you're not just wasting my time."

"Do you know what you are Lydia? Has anyone, Dr Deaton, the Argents bothered to help you find out who you are?"

"I know who I am."

He mocked her. "Dr. Deaton's scared but the Argents don't know at all. They can't even imagine. My uncle Aaron told me he was there when they killed the last American witch in 1923 along with the first wolf. Wolves just got tired of witches deciding their fates. They killed them all, young and old, they obliterated all evidence of their existence. How many people are even alive who remember your kind exists much less give you the chance to learn how to be a witch?"

"I know enough to make an army of zombies hunt you down and put you in chains and even if they're not really cannibals I will make them nibble on your liver a little everyday, you jerk," she hissed at him eyes burning to see his caught in an expression between fascinated and appalled.

"The Hale library has to be the only one left standing and it is meant for someone like you. Peter knew. He digitized every single book." He paused, unsure of how she would respond to his next words. "It's where he found how to use you. Hundreds of books written by witches for witches." He opened his broken phone's case and removed the memory card.

"Any witch can become more powerful than an alpha. You want that don't you? No more playing the victim and no more running away from your fears. Just think of the reserves of power waiting for someone to tap them. You can make magic at a moment's notice. I am offering it to you."

Derek Hale, Lydia thought, should not make promises he could not deliver on. The Hale library could just as well be a series of journals filled with entry upon entry of 'Woke up today, made passionate love to my twelve year old wife, ate roasted deer's bladder, goodnight.' Still, Derek held the postage stamp sized card between fingertips like he knew it was worth a fortune.

To someone like her. Just the instructions to maintaining dozens of zombies alive without resorting to pica and damaging muscle mass would change everything. And if raising zombies wasn't the only thing she could do and if she could protect herself against wolves—

"Congratulations, I am tempted."

 

She was a smart girl as well as a fan of short ruffled skirts and polka dotted bow headbands. But there was no way Derek would hand her the means to so much power for free or warn her of the consequences.

"The collected knowledge of witches and wolves?"

"I found this grammarye just by going through the first ten books entirely dedicated to wolf magic. The spell I want has to be in it. You'll see for yourself."

She shook her head. "Don't be so sure."

She needed to think. Derek was looking upwards. The LA light pollution reflected on the thick layer of low cumulus clouds. The breeze had stopped. It looked like rain. He wasn't going to tell her everything this much she knew.

"How questionable is this spell anyway? Am I going to have to kill anyone or?"

"No, I don't think so," Derek said. A sharp intake of breath betrayed him. He was definitely holding back. What if Peter had set a trap for her?

"Look, you're going to have to come back another time. I have finals. I can't leave everything behind." Again.

Derek shook his head. "No," he said sharply. "It has to be now."

Lydia felt her stomach turn which she had learned signified she was angry. "Oh? Are the stars aligned just perfectly?" she spat at him. The Prometheus inspired threat was looking more feasible the more time she spent in Derek Hale's company.

He was standing very stiffly, fists clenched and sniffing – sniffing! – the air. His next words came out very urgent.

"Lydia, it has to be now!" He had grown teeth and claws in two seconds, and overgrown sideburns which without the mesmerizing predatory snarl would look completely ridiculous. For Lydia now was the time to start worrying.

What pushed him so on edge? A threat, she thought. A wolf might be threatened by hunters or more wolves. Wolves i n L.A.?Even if she had never heard of any, the probability of their existence was high. Assuming so then… A Los Angeles wolf pack, that Derek did not belong in. He was trespassing!

"Derek, what did you do?" she said, the panic in her voice uncontainable.

Derek was not responding. But whatever he was sensing all she could see and hear was a campus parking lot too early in the morning for even the security guards to pretend to patrol.

"I can smell three. There could be more downwind. Get in the car."

"No I will not! This is my home. What in all hell are you getting me into?"

A branch cracked at fifty yards in the same thicket of trees Derek had been hiding just minutes ago. There were more.

"Listen to me. Get in the car."

 

Lydia listened. She sat behind the wheel while Derek walked towards the gymnastics building, perhaps pointedly ignoring the wolves in the trees that broke the silence. She was not going to remain idle while she waited. In the glove compartment next to the pepper spray there was a mountain ash letter opener and she reached for it.

A man appeared out of the shadows short but built like a brick house. He spoke to Derek but Lydia couldn't hear the conversation. She saw the short man throw his head back and laugh and two more men came forth. Surely Derek would turn into the monster if things went really wrong, right?

They jumped him. Derek clawed, kicked and bit but didn't turn. He threw off the man who attacked him from behind and tackled another. Lydia could feel the force with which they fell to the ground vibrating through the car chassis. She took the advantage of their being distracted beating him Derek down and she started the car, lights still off.

Lydia caught movement from the corner of her eye. Another man galloped on four towards them to join the fight. She stepped on the gas and hit him at a seventy-two degree angle. He fell on his back. One temporarily down.

You have to distract a dog from his prey with a threat. The twin headlights of a fast approaching beetle could be categorized as a threat. Three heads turned to snarl at her but eventually the two flew out of her way. The other hit the side mirror on collision. She skidded to a halt a less-than-perfect ten feet away from a half-sitting up Derek.

"Come on!" she yelled, surprised her throat could produce that high-pitched noise with her heart jammed in there.

There had been a countless number of things wrong with her choices during the course of the night but bravery had got to be the worst. Derek stood and limped to the door she opened for him. He threw himself in the car and the wolves got left behind.

"How far do we have to go until we're out of their territory?"

He took his time answering. "I think heading north for five miles should do it."

She stopped at the traffic lights and looked at him. He stared straight ahead holding his right arm awkwardly against the door handle. Blood streaks and gravel burns were visible all over his face and arms.

"You are so going to fix this mess I don't care if you have to give your right hand."

He took his time replying. "I can't without that spell," he said sourly like Greek yoghurt.

 

The light turned green and she took a right. Raindrops fell on the windshield one by one and then speeded up. Three-oh-two, the dash flashed at her. Lydia called a number by heart and let it ring. He was going to have to wake up.

"What the hell, Lydia?" Danny said picking up, too groggy to be truly pissed.

"Danny! Hi. I need to borrow your laptop."  
-


End file.
